


Breaking Down Walls

by sir_coriander_cadaverish



Category: Nimona (Webcomic)
Genre: Angsty fluff?, Cute, Emotional Fluff, Fluff, Gay Knights, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:15:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sir_coriander_cadaverish/pseuds/sir_coriander_cadaverish
Summary: This is an extension of the conversation Ballister and Ambrosius have in the Institution (jail?) cell.
Relationships: Ballister Blackheart/Ambrosius Goldenloin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Breaking Down Walls

**Author's Note:**

> We love a messy WIP fic!! This was my first-ever fanfiction that took place in the actual Nimonaverse and I'd consider it 85% complete. Good enough to post, I guess.
> 
> To be honest, it's way too fluffy to be taken seriously - I personally think Ballister would've been a lot more "HELL NO" in the real story than he is here, but alas, I love me some soft shit.
> 
> Also, you'll notice that this is a bit techier than what you could probably find in the true canon; I had the boys "deactivate" their armor as if it were holographic or something, but that was just for my fluffy convenience. Anyway, enjoy (and thanks, as always, for the hits)!!

They'd been in the cell for about an hour now, and both of the men had deactivated their suits of armor. At this point, Ambrosius got up from his bench. Tentatively, he walked up to the softly-humming forcefield against which Ballister was leaning in silence. With a deep breath, he extended a hand through the forcefield and tentatively placed it on Ballister's back, near his shoulder. Ballister didn't move. 

Having gained just enough confidence to do so, Ambrosius then silently sat down behind Ballister and, after a moment's hesitation, gently slipped his arms around Ballister's middle. Ballister let out an almost-inaudible sigh. Ambrosius couldn't exactly tell what the sigh meant.

The men sat there, pressed against each other in thoughtful silence, for a few minutes - although it felt like hours to both of them. 

Finally, Ambrosius lifted his chin from where it was nestled in the crook of Ballister's neck, and breathed, "You okay?" 

Ballister tensed a bit at the sound of Ambrosius' voice, then exhaled, murmuring, "I'm fine." 

Fearing that he'd overstepped whatever boundary Ballister had constructed between them, Ambrosius started to move away. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You know, I don't have to... I can..." 

" _No_ ," Ballister interjected, a bit more sharply than he'd intended. "I mean... I'm _fine_." He cleared the edge of desperation from his throat. "This is... okay."

Somewhat relieved, Ambrosius relaxed again, and he pulled Ballister closer to him. Although still vaguely distant, Ballister allowed this. Ambrosius wondered whether perhaps Ballister secretly enjoyed the embrace.

After what felt like eons, Ambrosius let go of Ballister and scooted through the forcefield and around, so that they were facing each other, sitting together on the cold metal floor. At first, Ambrosius was still; he didn't want to do anything that might break whatever spell was causing Ballister to want to be anywhere close to him. But then, idly, he reached for Ballister's metal hand and gently turned it over so that he could hold it. Then, without saying a word, he took Ballister's other hand and held it in the same way. They'd done this when they were kids - hold both hands and study the tiny differences. Tenderly, Ambrosius held Ballister's hands in his, gazing downward at the intricate metalwork of Ballister's right hand and lightly stroking Ballister's warmer, softer, human left hand with his thumb. Ballister watched on in silence; for the first time in years, he wasn't pulling away from Ambrosius' touch. They both seemed to hold their breaths for a moment. The air itself seemed to stand still.

Then, by some sudden urge, Ambrosius took Ballister's human hand and laced his fingers between his own, lifting it up to face level.

The men remained frozen, gazing at their clasped hands; the weight of the moment rendered both of them speechless. Then, with resignation, Ambrosius lowered his hand and his head, hair falling down in front of his face. Ballister exhaled heavily through his nose. 

Silently, a tear fell from Ambrosius' eyes and landed, glittering, on the floor. Then another one fell, and then another. He quickly wiped his eyes, which were still trained decidedly on the ground. There was a heavy silence, broken only by a tiny sniffle from Ambrosius, which was followed by even more silence.

"Ambrosius," Ballister finally said, his low voice breaking the silence. "Are you...?" 

"I've just missed you so much," Ambrosius interrupted in a tight voice. He glanced up at Ballister for a moment and looked down again, hastily brushing tears from his eyes.

Gone was the hero's usual bravado, smugness, and arrogance. On the contrary; at this moment, it seemed as though Ambrosius was truly ashamed.

It was with a certain air of tenderness that Ballister then extended a hand, placed it under Ambrosius' chin, and lifted his face slowly upward. Ambrosius forced himself to stare at Ballister, although his cobalt eyes were now rimmed with red. As Ballister pierced Ambrosius' gaze for a few breathless moments, his expression was no longer clouded; he now regarded Ambrosius with kindness. 

"I've... missed you too," he finally said to Ambrosius. "But things have changed. You know that." Ambrosius nodded, hating himself for thinking - even for a moment - that things could ever be the same again. "But," Ballister went on, "There may be a day, sooner or later, that I might... forgive you." He let his hand rest on Ambrosius' shoulder briefly.

Overwhelmed, Ambrosius closed his eyes, another handful of tears slipping from his tightly-closed eyelids. As he took a shaky breath and looked away at one of the stone cell walls, his hair cascading forward and concealing his profile once more, Ambrosius tried with all of his strength to avoid Ballister's gaze. "Okay," he finally whispered.

Ballister gazed appraisingly at Ambrosius. There he sat, sniffling and pitiful, and too ashamed of himself to even look Ballister in the eyes.

Ballister hated Ambrosius - truly hated him! - and he'd convinced himself that hating Ambrosius was the only way he could ever get back at him. _But god_ , he thought, despite himself, _How I love him_.

In this moment, Ballister realized that he could no longer play the charade. Without a word, he reached over and pulled Ambrosius into a hug.

It was surprisingly pleasant, feeling Ambrosius' warmth, and his shaky breaths on Ballister's neck, and the fleecy fabric of his shirt rather than his cold and metallic armor. But it only lasted a moment.

"No," Ambrosius suddenly said, pulling himself out of the hug, "I don't deserve- it's my fault that-"

"Ambrosius," Ballister interrupted softly, causing Ambrosius to fall silent, "It's okay." Ambrosius disbelievingly shook his head, blinking rapidly. Then, with hesitation but great sincerity, Ballister added, "I still love you."

At this point, the cell fell silent. Neither of them spoke; they stared at each other for a moment. Then, with the tiniest smile, Ambrosius leaned back into the hug. "Okay," he whispered.

* * *

Somewhere in the Institution, one of the King's Guards (an older, grey-haired man with an impressive mustache) took a deep swig out of his protein shake as he scrolled Twitter, waiting as usual for something interesting to happen on his security monitor - which was rare, to say the least. He was just about to check the news when suddenly, his security panel released an unusual, shrill tone. _Breach of forcefield! Breach of forcefield!_ read the screen. Startling at the sound, the Guard tossed his shake to the side, whirled around in his chair and began typing away, searching for the offending prisoner. In a moment, he pulled up the screen of Cell 0152, where that fallen-from-grace Prince Charming was guarding some bright, young criminal mastermind. Rather formulaic, in his opinion.

Squinting, the Guard could barely make out what seemed to be a prisoner on the screen. But nobody was at the bench - in fact, the two men were together, at the threshold of the forcefield! "Hey now, Blondie, that's against protocol," he muttered, knowing that there could be a conspiracy afoot. But right before he reached over to set off the Institution's emergency alert system, the Guard stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, he'd seen something most unexpected. The two men were... holding hands? He couldn't believe it. And why did it seem as though the prisoner had his arm around Sir What's-His-Nuts?

And now... Prince Goldengrain or whoever-he-was... had just leaned in to _kiss_ the prisoner! "Well, I never," the Guard breathed, astonished. His finger, which had been hovering an inch above the _Alert_ button, was quickly pulled back. He canceled the alert tone, and exited the cell monitors, picked his protein shake from the floor, and reopened Twitter on his phone. 

Then the Guard leaned back in his creaky chair, a grin growing on his mustached face. "Good golly," he whispered breathlessly to himself, "If that ain't the cutest shit I've ever seen!"


End file.
